


DP-Crack Stories Today!

by Marvelite5Ever



Category: Cable and Deadpool, Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Nate and Stryfe are fighting, Popcorn, Wade gets them to stop fighting with a shovel, a cabbage patch doll, a pan, also there's total Cablepool sweetness, and a pink dildo engraved with rhinestones, and a story about how he defeated Cap and Iron Man with a potato, crack!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 02:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5399453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvelite5Ever/pseuds/Marvelite5Ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DP-Crack Stories Today! Because I couldn't think of a title that makes sense. </p>
<p>Essentially, Wade tells Stryfe and Cable about defeating Tony Stark and Captain America with a potato, a cabbage patch doll, and a pink dildo engraved with rhinestones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	DP-Crack Stories Today!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stryfe (Wade_Winston_Wilson)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wade_Winston_Wilson/gifts).



> As you can probably guess from the title and summary, this fic ended up pretty crack!y.
> 
> This is a gift for Stryfe (Wade_Winston_Wilson). I really hope you like it!! I'm not at all comfortable writing Stryfe, so I just kind of made fun of him, mostly… sorry… but there's sweetness between Wade and Nate at the end, so maybe that makes up for something? 
> 
> Ahhhohgawdohshit I really hope it's okay!! *shoves it at you and runs away to find a hiding spot*

_“Stryfe!”_ Cable ground out through clenched teeth. _“Stop this!”_

“Make me,” Stryfe challenged, a smug, lips-pulled-apart smirk gracing his features with its malevolent presence. 

The two twins (it was easiest just to call them twins, because they couldn't both be called clones—and also the word 'two' was unnecessary modifier since twins were always composed of two people, except for the ice cream, in which twins were composed of three people) were locked in combat, currently at a stalemate, their fingers twined as they each tried to push the other back. 

Both of them were surrounded by a blue glow as they augmented their strengths with telekenesis. Both their left eyes were glowing. Both of them had scars over their right eyes. 

And holy shit, it had to be like looking in a mirror for them—a mirror that, along with flipping the left and the right, also flipped the lips upside-down, because the exactly tilt to which Stryfe's lips were curled up was the same tilt to which Cable's lips were curled down. 

Also, both of them looked utterly ridiculous. Stryfe in his spiky, bulky metal armor and distinctly _not_ aerodynamic helmet (seriously, how the hell did he turn his head while wearing that fucking ceiling fan?!), and Cable with his techno-organic arm and the blue and yellow spandex suit covered from shoulders to calves in pouches. So many, many, many pouches. 

What the fuck did Cable even carry in those pouches?! Because Wade sure as hell never saw him take anything out of them. Cable only ever had huge-ass guns. Never even threw a fucking grenade. What the hell was up with that, huh? 

And yes, Wade's internal dialogue contained muchos expletives. But you can't really blame him, can you? Despite the ridiculous comic outfits, he's not in a comic right now! Which means he can curse all he damn well wants, gracias! 

Which brings us nicely to our protagonist: Wade Winston Wilson, the Merc with a Mouth. Who is (fuck consistent tenses!) currently sitting on a large piece of crumbled concrete from where Cable and Stryfe had crashed through a building, watching the fight interestedly. 

You know what would make this even better? Popcorn! 

Digging through the pouches on his belt, Wade pulled out a bag of popcorn kernels, setting it on the concrete beside him. A bit more digging and he found his portable propane stove, setting that down, too. 

Seriously, what the hell did Cable have in his pouches?! 

“I won't… let you...” Cable growled, glaring at his clone's smug face, the muscles (both flesh and metal) of his arms straining as he tried to push the other back. 

“Won't let me what?” Stryfe asked, shit-eating grin widening, stepping forward and pushing Cable a step back. “Win?” 

With the already salted popcorn kernels emptied into a pan on top of the propane stove, Wade popped popcorn as he watched them, humming to himself cheerfully. 

“You're _weak,”_ Stryfe hissed with a sneer, taking pushing the straining Cable another step back. “You're _pathetic.”_

“Keep… telling yourself that...” Cable ground out, digging in his heels and holding his ground, the blue around him flaring brighter along with the brilliant white-yellow of his left eye. Sweat was trickling down his face now, glimmering in the early afternoon sunlight. 

Man, if Cable was sweating that much, Stryfe must be melting under all that metal armor with all that salty sweat. Like butter.

Speaking of butter—the buttered popcorn was done popping, and Wade took a handful and tried to stuff it into his mouth. 

Key word there being tried. Have you ever tried to eat popcorn while wearing a mask? It doesn't exactly work very well. 

“Three second rule?” Wade asked, picking up one of the pieces of popcorn that had fallen on the dusty concrete around his crossed legs, examining it. “Eeeew, it's all dusty.” 

He threw the piece of popcorn, hitting Stryfe's helmet with the softest of _ping!_ s. 

Stryfe didn't take his steely eyes off his twin, who was taunting him with the reminder that, by calling him pathetic, he'd just called _himself_ pathetic, because they were of the same genetic material. 

“Why you think… you need to prove your worth… by beating me...” Cable growled. “You're acting so juvenile as to be beyond my ability to understand. Have you learned _nothing…?”_

_“Shut up!”_ Stryfe snarled, taking another step forward. 

Gawd, they were really like two bulls with their horns locked or some shit like that. Fighting for dominance or whatever. 

How cute. 

_“You miserable old—”_ Stryfe was snarling. 

Wade threw another piece of popcorn at him, hitting him between the eyes this time. 

_“What?!”_ Stryfe demanded, whipping his head around to glare at the mercenary. “Why you little—!” 

Cable took the opportunity to push Stryfe several steps back, smiling grimly as he did so. “What were you saying about pathetic?” 

“He threw popcorn at me!” Stryfe said, somewhat disbelievingly as he shot another glare at the mercenary. 

“Pop!” Deadpool said, throwing another piece of popcorn at his face. “Pop! Pop!” More popcorn rained down on both of them—pinging on Stryfe's armor and getting caught in Cable's white hair. Like snowflakes in a snowbank. “Pop!” 

_“Deadpool,”_ Stryfe ground out, before shifting his attention back to trying to push Cable off a nonexistant cliff. Seriously, where the hell were they trying to shove each other, anyway? 

“What, am I bursting your bubble?” Wade asked with a grin, throwing a piece of popcorn that hit Stryfe in the nose. He couldn't hit Cable in the nose because Cable's back was to him—but Cable really did look nice with popcorn all caught up in his hair like popcorn garlands around a Christmas tree. All festive-y. 

“Stay out of this, Wade,” Stryfe growled at him. 

“I _am_ staying out of it!” Wade protested, gesturing at the pan of popcorn. “Hence the popcorn! I'm watching and being entertained by your testosterone thing! Seriously, if I went down there, your extravagant mind-and-muscle-and-mettle-contest would be long over.” 

“Don't delude yourself,” Stryfe snapped. 

“I'm not the one deluding myself,” Wade pointed out, glancing around the deserted New York City block that the two powerful mutants had destroyed. While also venting their angst at each other—and, therefore, themselves. 

(If you're wondering why no other superheroes have showed up yet, that would because Stryfe created a telekenetic dome around their chosen fighting arena so they wouldn't be disturbed. Of course, Deadpool had come to disturb them, anyway, because he was awesome and owned a shovel and dug his way under the forcefield, because Stryfe was a megalomaniac idiot who didn't extend the forcefield under ground, probably because he didn't think anybody would be willing to get dirty to get inside. Well, he was wrong!)

(If you're wondering why Deadpool owned a shovel, that would be because every third Saturday of the month he helped the city workers plant trees in a park. Hey, a mercenary had to ease his conscience somehow! Whatever conscience he had, anyway. He figured volunteering to help trees and the Earth was better than volunteering to help people because trees were never supervillains in disguise, nobody hated trees enough to hire him to kill them, and he would never be taking away from his good work whenever he killed someone.)

Brushing some leftover dirt off his shoulder, Wade watched as Stryfe and Cable growled at each other and had their weird combat of strength and bullheadedness or whatever. 

Wade had yet to psychoanalyze them to figure out whether they got into these fights because of extreme self-loathing or extreme narcissism. There had to be some mentality that caused them to most enjoy beating up someone who looked almost exactly like them. Maybe it was daddy problems. All Marvel characters seemed to have daddy problems. 

Wait, no—that didn't account for why Cyclops was never present at these little fracas. 

Maybe Wade should bring him along sometime. 

“Half of what you see is a delusion,” Stryfe growled at him, both him and Cable grunting identically at the strain of trying to push each other back far enough to fall off some nonexistant cliff. 

If Wade hired some cliff-carvers, he bet they'd actually be able to create two nice-sized cliffs behind the two of them before they pushed each other more than a few feet in either direction. 

Seriously, it was like the trenches of World War I all over again—gaining and losing the same ground over and over again and not actually getting anywhere. 

Wait, was Wade present at World War I? He didn't think so. Maybe he'd actually retained some information from history class in high school!

Actually, that was unlikely. More likely he'd just heard Logan talking about it. 

“Half of what you _think_ is a delusion!” Wade countered with a huff, crossing his arms and kicking the popcorn pan at them. 

The pan hit Stryfe in the ridiculous helmet, popcorn scattering all over them. 

“Gah!” Cable said, closing his eyes against the spray of butter and salt and popped corn kernels. 

“Gah!” Stryfe said in unison, wincing as his helmet reverberated with the impact of the pan. 

“If I went down there I could beat you two with whatever's in Cable's multitude of pockets! String, duct tape, picture frame—you name it, I can beat you up with it,” Wade snorted, waving around his propane stove, before stuffing it back in one of his pouches. 

“Don't ask him,” Cable warned, looking at his clone with narrowed eyes, even as he took advantage of the distraction to push Stryfe a few steps back. “I mean it. Don't.” 

Stryfe ground in his heels and stopped the progression, glancing at Cable with a smirk twisting his features, before looking over the man's shoulder at the mercenary. “Really. You think you could beat two omega-level mutants with random items?” 

“I beat Iron Man and Captain America with a potato, a cabbage patch doll, and a pink dildo engraved with rhinestones,” Wade shrugged, examining his fingernails through his black and red gloves. Because he could totally do that. 

“Really,” Stryfe said, disbelieving but amused by the prospect. 

And then Cable slugged him in the face. With a fist. The metal fist. 

Stryfe reeled back, rubbing at his cheek and looking at his twin in surprise. 

Cable shrugged, brushing off his metal knuckles before looking over at his clone with a close-lipped smirk. “I warned you not to ask him. It's your own fault that you went against my advice and you distraction gave me an opening.” 

_“Why you—!”_ Stryfe snarled, tackling Cable to the ground, where they began rolling and punching each other. 

Geez, they were almost as bad as Wolverine and Sabretooth! Just couldn't keep their paws off each other! 

“Yeah, after I beat their asses in with the potato, cabbage patch doll and dildo—did I mention the dildo was pink and engraved with rhinestones? Because that's important—they ran back to Jarvis with their tails between their legs—metaphorical tails, because unfortunately, I don't have magic and couldn't give them real tails just to admire the sight of them running away with real tails between their legs—and I got on a flight to Sydney, Australia,” Wade continued, as if they were listening attentively instead of alternately straddling one another and beating their own faces in—even if those faces were on a different person, technically. 

But seriously, it was the same face! In every way except that the bone under Cable's face was metal, which meant that Stryfe's armor was probably trying to make up for something he felt he was lacking—namely, a face that broke fingers when it was punched. 

So instead, Stryfe got himself metal armor he could impale the world on if the world ever rested on his shoulders the way it rest on Cable's—because as far as Wade could figure, the only purpose of those shoulder-spikes was the same purpose that stores put metal spikes on their awnings and stuff, to keep off the pigeons. Except that the pigeons Stryfe was trying to ward off were the world-sized ones, so they wouldn't mistake him for Cable and settle there like that curse where a chicken settles on your head—except obviously, not a chicken and not on one's head. 

As for the spikes on his thighs… um… hug -deterrent? Kiss-deterrent? You can't exactly make out with someone when you have spikes on your thighs.

“And Sydney, Australia wasn't actually where I meant to go when I entered the airport,” Wade continued. “I'd been planning to get on a flight to Moscow, Russia. Did you know that there don't seem to be an Australian superheroes? What is it about New York that attracts all the trouble? Why is Australia left out? Although I did find this guy in Australia that looks _exactly_ like Thor. But isn't Thor, because when I punched him he actually staggered back, and instead of attacking me he was just like, 'What was _that_ for, mate?!' So he wasn't actually Thor. But he _looked_ like Thor! I mean, his hair was shorter, but other than that! Because Thor could have gotten a haircut, y'know!” 

Glancing over at him for a moment, Stryfe asked with a smirk, “You punched a guy because you thought he was Thor?” 

And then Cable punched Stryfe, and they went back to wrestling in the dirt like little boys. It was kind of cute. Especially with all the bloody noses that were involved. 

“Well, yeah,” Wade said. “How else was I supposed to tell if he was actually Thor and Thor actually lived in Australia?!”

“You could have _asked,”_ Cable suggested, finally managing to get Stryfe's stupid helmet off his head—which was a huge advantage to Cable, because that helmet was more of a weapon than anything else. It would be much more useful to Stryfe if, instead of using it as head protection, which it failed at, he used it the way Cable was using it—as a weapon to stab with. 

“Why the hell would I _ask_ him?” Wade scoffed, snorting. “The proper way to greet a fellow superhuman is to punch them! And then you fight, and a good time is had by all. Which is exactly what happened with Captain America and Iron Man at the airport.” He paused, tilting his head as if thinking. “Except I don't think they had a good time. But I had a good time!” He grinned. “Fighting with _Captain Fucking America_ and Titanium Alloy Man is much more fun than being locked up because the airport security thought I was a terrorist! I mean, just because I was carrying, like,” he tapped on his fingers, “six guns, fifteen grenades, two swords, and eleven other assorted blades—”

“You took all that to the _airport?!”_ Cable asked him, after disentangling himself with his clone. 

“Well, yeah,” Wade said, watching as Stryfe tackled Cable again. “I was going to Russia! I didn't think anybody would care if I brought weapons to Russia!”

Cable probably would have facepalmed, if he wasn't busy fending off Stryfe's spiky elbows. 

“But apparently they do care, because they set off an alarm and the airport security guys surrounded me and pointed guns and told me to drop my weapons,” Wade said, sounding exasperated. “So I reach to start dropping my grenades, and they open fire on me! Like, all of them! And they shoot me enough to knock me out, right? And when I wake up, I'm in a secured room in the airport, with Captain America and Iron Man standing over me.

“And Cap's just like, 'Deadpool what are you doing?' and so I say, 'Sitting in a room with you and Tin Man over there. Did you guys really handcuff me?' and I hold up the handcuffs that I'd already worked my way out of. 'How incompetent do you guys think I am?' And I was going to point out that I was too cool to pull some stupid terrorist thing in an airport, but then Iron Man's just like, 'We've removed all your weapons. Don't even think about trying anything.' So then I immediately check my pouches to see if they really did take all my weapons, and Stark's just like, 'Yes, we even took the potato gun.'” 

“Potato gun?” Stryfe asked, pausing with his fist in Cable's hair, expression befuddled. 

“A potato gun is a pipe-based cannon which uses air pressure or combustion of flammable gas to launch projectiles at high speeds,” Cable answered, reaching up and untangling his clone's fingers from his hair. “They are built to fire chunks of potato, as a hobby, or to fire other sorts of projectiles, for practical use.” 

“What the hell kind of use is a potato gun?!” Stryfe said, apparently still so confused by the fact that there's a type of gun that shoots potato pieces that he was willing to let go of his twin's hair. 

“The projectile can be dangerous and result in life-threatening injuries, including cranial fractures, enucleation, and blindness if a person is hit,” Cable answered calmly. 

“Hey!” Wade protested, pointing at him accusingly. “I thought you didn't have the internet in your brain any more! But I can't think of any other explanation for you quoting Wikipedia word for word!”

“When you asked if potato guns were allowed on Providence, I had to look them up,” Cable said, looking at the merc somewhat amusedly. “And the fact that you know I quoted Wikipedia word for word means that you also have the definition memorized.” 

“Oh, fuck you,” Wade said petulantly, crossing his arms and pouting. 

Cable just raised his eyebrows, inquiring, “What happened after Stark said they'd taken away your potato gun?” 

Wade brightened. “Well, I figured out that they'd taken the potato gun, but not the potato!”

Cable sighed, rubbing the bridge of his bloodied nose. “Please tell me that you didn't use the potato as a projectile.” 

“What? No, of course I didn't use it as a projectile! What the hell would a flying potato do against Iron Man and Captain America? I'm not _that_ stupid,” Wade said indignantly. “I simply told Stark that he'd forgotten to take away my ammunition, and when he pointed out there wasn't anything I could do to them with a potato, I suggested that I could make a potato battery and electrocute him.” 

“You _what?”_ Cable asked, staring at him. Stryfe chuckled at his twin's expression, seeming to enjoy Cable's mental pain as much as he'd enjoyed causing him physical pain. What a sadist, huh? 

“Uh huh,” Wade affirmed, grinning. “And then he launched into this long talk about how many potatoes I'd need to cause enough electric charge to electrocute a person, and how that wouldn't even work when he's in his suit because it's electrocution-proof. And then Cap started to get frustrated with Stark for getting off-topic, and they started arguing about whether talking about potato batteries was counter-productive or not. And geez, have you been in a room with those two? The sexual tension is _stifling!_ Why hasn't somebody just pushed their heads together and made them kiss already, huh? Then all the fanpersons would be happy and might stop torturing us so much.” 

Wade paused. “Well, okay, they probably wouldn't. But it would be worth a try, right?” 

“Fanpersons?” Stryfe asked, brow furrowed. 

“He calls it 'breaking the fourth wall,'” Cable informed him flatly. “He thinks we're all comic book characters—”

“Or fanfiction characters!” Wade interrupted him. 

“—and that we aren't real,” Cable said. “It's best to just ignore it.” 

Stryfe was looking at the mercenary oddly. 

“This author has absolutely no idea how to write you,” Wade informed him pleasantly. 

“...I see what you mean,” Stryfe said to his twin, frowning at Deadpool. 

Before Wade could comment on the fact that he'd just agreed with his hated twin, Cable quickly asked, “What were you doing while Captain America and Iron Man were arguing?” 

Wade turned to him, beaming. “You know me so well, Nate! Well, what I was doing was, I found the cabbage patch doll in my pockets—”

“Cabbage patch doll?” Stryfe asked, confused again. 

Cable sighed, rubbing that part of his nose between his clenched-shut eyes again. 

“They're dolls for little kids with creepy faces,” Wade told him. “Well, not for kids with creepy faces—the dolls are the ones with creepy faces. So I found this doll, right? So I'm playing with this doll, and I make my voice all high and say, 'Mommy and daddy don't fight! Stop fighting!' 

“And so Cap and Stark stop and turn to look at me and the doll, and of course I couldn't see Stark's face, but Cap's was hilarious. And so I'm like, 'Don't fight mommy and daddy!' and I throw the doll at Stark.” 

Stryfe was still looking confused, and Cable sighed. “You throw the doll but not the potato!” 

“Well, I hadn't put magnets inside the potato,” Wade shrugged. “But I'd put some of those really, really strong magnets inside the doll—y'know, the types of magnets that, in order to get them off your refrigerator, you have to grab them with both hands and place both feet against the refrigerator and pull for all your worth? And even then sometimes that doesn't work, and you have to call Magneto to see if he'll do you a favor and get the stupid magnet off your fucking fridge? Yeah, those ones. So this doll had all these uber-strong magnets in it, so it stuck to Iron Man's face, and he started yelling and clawing at the doll like 'Aaagh, creepy doll! Get if off gedditoff _gedditoff!'”_

“But of course, Cap doesn't help him, because he thinks that I'm up to no good, now, so he's rushing at me to take away the object that I'm currently taking out of my pockets. And he rips the object out of my hands, probably expecting it to be a grenade or something, only to find that it's this pink plastic thing with rhinestones.” 

“The dildo,” Cable said. 

“The dildo,” Wade agreed, grinning. “But y'know what the great thing was? Cap didn't even know what a dildo was! So he's staring at this unknown object, and by this time the genius Tony Stark has finally figured out that he can get the creepy doll out of his face by taking off his helmet, and he turns to sarcastically thank Cap for all the help when he finds Steve holding a pink dildo with rhinestones. And Stark gets this weird look on his face and is like, 'Steve, why are you holding a dildo?' And Cap's like, 'What's a dildo?' And then Tony just stares at him for several moments, before he doubles over laughing hysterically.” 

“I thought you said there was fighting involved in this story,” Stryfe said, sounding disappointed and annoyed. 

“Patience!” Wade said, waving a hand. “You cannot rush the greatness that is my storytelling!” 

“I don't know if I'd all your storytelling 'great,'” Cable said, lips twitching. 

“Fuck you!” Wade said petulantly, throwing a piece of rubble at him, which Cable ducked, still smirking. 

“Patience,” Cable said. “We can get to that activity later.” 

Wade snickered, and Stryfe looked back and forth between them, eyes narrowing. 

“Jealous?” Wade teased him, grinning. 

Stryfe glared at him. “No.” 

“You sure?” Wade said, his voice suicidally goading. “Because you rather seemed to be enjoying straddling Cable—”

He was silenced by a telekenetic force closing his jaw together. “Mmmph!” he said. 

“I _will_ tear you apart,” Stryfe threatened. 

“No you won't!” Wade said with a grin, when the pressure on his jaw eased. “You want to hear the next part of the story! Because then Stark has to explain to Cap what a dildo is, and Cap's face turns _bright_ red-like a fucking _tomato_ —and he drops the pink dildo with rhinestones like it's a hot potato and rubs his hands on his pants to wipe them off, and Stark starts laughing again. 

“And the dildo rolls across the floor to my feet, and I kick it into the air back at Cap, and he dives out of the way of the thing like it had been up my ass and hadn't been washed.

“And Stark is laughing so hard that when I throw the potato at him—because it's a potato! It had to be used as a projectile _sometime,_ because what other good is a potato?—he only clips part of it with his repulsor beam, essentially cooking it, and it hits the wall behind them and splatters them with mashed potato. 

“Stark quickly sobers, about to blast me, but then I grab the dildo and try to hit Steve with it—but Cap runs away like the dildo is the plague, and Stark meant to hit me but he missed and hit the door because he was laughing again, and Cap bolts out the door and I run after him, chasing him with the dildo while Stark cracks up watching. 

“So I chase Cap through the airport, and civilians are screaming and scattering, and in the chaos I slip onto an airplane. Only it turns out to be the wrong airplane and I end up in Australia and punch a guy who looks just like Thor.” 

Stryfe and Cable stare at him. 

“The end!” Wade announced, gesturing grandly. “How I beat Captain America and Iron Man with a potato, a cabbage patch doll, and a pink dildo with rhinestones!” 

There were a few moments of silence. 

“There wasn't any fighting,” Stryfe said finally. 

“There was _some_ fighting,” Wade corrected, wagging a finger at him. “But how much fighting did you think I could do with a potato, a creepy kids' doll, and a dildo, anyway?” 

Stryfe pondered that for a moment and seemed to realize the validity of the statement. Cable just seemed impassive in that way he did when he was hiding the fact that he was amused. But he was definitely amused. 

“Hey, Stryfe,” Wade said, looking at the clone in the spiky armor and tilting his head. “I just realized that you never asked what a dildo is.”

“I already knew what a dildo was,” Stryfe answered dryly.

“Did you?” Wade asked, blatantly interested. 

Stryfe looked at him flatly. “Telepath, remember? People tend to project sexual thoughts especially loudly.” 

Wade grinned behind the mask. “You ever get off on some of those thoughts?” 

“No,” Stryfe said immediately, glaring. “And that is the end of this conversation.” 

“Why?” Wade asked, sitting on his hands and swinging his legs off the side of the large piece of concrete rubble. His grin was an open-mouthed smirk. “Are you going to eroticize with your twin again? Because you do realize that that was what you were doing, right? Eroticizing.”

Cable coughed. Definitely hiding a laugh, then. 

Stryfe glared between them. There was really no way he could resume the fight from earlier after that. “I'm leaving,” he announced, striding away. 

“Are you sure you don't want to join Nate and my's sexy activities?” Wade called after him, grin positively shit-eating, even while partially muted by the mask. 

Stryfe didn't answer, levitating into the air and disappearing off into the sky like a balloon let go of by a child. Up, up and away, growing into a distant speck then disappearing completely. 

Cable turned to the mercenary. “We should go,” he said. “The forcefield is down, and the Avengers will be on us within minutes.” 

“You don't think they want to hear how I defeated you and Stryfe with a shovel, a packet of popcorn, a pan, and a story?” Wade asked, hopping off the chunk of rubble and picking up the shovel he'd hidden behind it.

“I don't think Steve and Tony would appreciate the story you made up,” Cable said, putting a hand on his shoulder, lips twitching. “Bodyslide by two.” 

“I didn't make it up!” Wade protested as they appeared in his apartment. “Just ask Steve and Tony!”

Cable lifted his eyebrows. “They'll tell me it didn't happen.” 

“Of course they will!” Wade said, snorting and waving a hand. “You don't actually think they'd admit that that happened, did you?”

Cable looked at him for a moment, before the corner of his lips twitched slightly. “That was clever,” he said. 

“Which part?” Wade asked, grinning. 

“All of it.” 

Wade paused, before raising his left hand to Cable's right cheek, the larger man wincing slightly at the touch. “You're going to get a black eye,” Wade told him. “The bruise is already forming. You're going to look like Domino, which is really not a good look for you. Should've gotten two black eyes—then you could have looked like me.”

“I know—I can feel the bruise forming,” Cable agreed. His lips curling further, his eyebrows raising in an almost playful manner as he said, “Kiss it better for me?” 

“You total _sap!”_ Wade exclaimed, pretending to be aghast. Cable chuckled, and Wade lasted only a few moments before joining him. “I can't kiss your eye better, you putz, you're too tall,” Wade said, hitting him lightly in the chest. 

Cable winced at the touch. 

Wade made a face. “You really let your clone beat the shit outta you, huh? You're gonna be black and blue tomorrow and your face will be all swollen and I'll be the pretty one again. I hate being the pretty one.” 

Cable met his gaze evenly. “You're always pretty.” 

“Aaaaand you have a concussion,” Wade sighed, grabbing Cable's arm and dragging him to the bathroom. “You need to wash up, but I can't let you wash up alone because if you're concussed then bad things and all that. So I'll shower with you, and then I'll practice my medical care skills on you again, and then we'll watch _Golden Girls._ Sound good?”

“No masks in the shower,” Cable told him. 

Wade laughed as he pushed the larger man into the bathroom. “I love you,” he said, following after Cable and closing the door before beginning to help the other man take off the ridiculous blue and yellow spandex with all the pouches. “But you're concussed, so you're not allowed to remember that.” 

Cable tugged Wad'es mask off. “Of course.” 

“Holy shit,” Wade said as he peeled the spandex away and saw the discoloring of Cable's flesh, wrinkling his nose. “Have you ever considered getting some armor like your twin? I mean, not as ridiculous and impractical, obviously, but something that actually offers _protection_ of some sort? Especially when you're going up against somebody else who has armor. Because his face might be a little messed up tomorrow, but there's no way you left him this bruised with all that metal. Although it is impressive that you managed not to get yourself stabbed by any of those ridiculous spikes.” 

“Mm,” Cable hummed noncommittally, smiling at him. “I love you too.” 

“Ugh,” Wade said, looking up at the ceiling in exasperation. He really shouldn't have given Nate the concussion excuse for his sappiness—Nate played up that excuse card way too much. They both knew his brain was fine. 

It was Wade's brain that had the problems. 

“Shower now,” Wade said, turning on the water and pushing Nate at the shower, before kicking off his own suit as fast as possible and joining the other man under the warm water. “Sappiness can come later when we're in that almost-asleep state where it's not awkward.” 

“It's not awkward now,” Cable said, a hand on Wade's waist as the smaller man gently rubbed soap over his bruised chest. 

“Yes, it i—” Wade started, before Cable cut him off with a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> *absolutely does not peek out from her hiding spot*


End file.
